


All the Lies You Told Me

by AuroraExecution



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Inspired by Fanfiction, Lies, M/M, Pining, Post-Star Trek Beyond, Space Husbands, Star Trek Beyond Spoilers, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7634866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraExecution/pseuds/AuroraExecution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years, Jim lies to Spock about certain things.  </p><p> </p><p>[AOS timeline, inspired by "Lies Your Captain Told You" by waldorph]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lies Your Captain Told You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/613528) by [waldorph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waldorph/pseuds/waldorph). 



> This is ultimately a Spock/Kirk fic, although Spock/Uhura plays a large role in it. Mostly I just enjoy tormenting Kirk, and he's pining so hard in Beyond. >.>

 

The first lie is the USS Bradbury.  Spock goes, because he isn’t really given a choice, despite the strange and completely illogical sensation that he does not _want_ to be Captain Abbott’s First Officer.  Then again, the transfer is perfectly acceptable given the events, but Spock, not prone to feelings, still experiences a sense of unease.  Jim tells as much of the truth as he can, but leaves out the most important part.  Dr. McCoy would say Jim didn’t know it himself then. 

Then, Khan happens.  Jim requests Spock to be reinstated as his First Officer very quickly—a little too quickly.  It is, in a way, Jim’s attempt at telling a truth he likely didn’t know, back then.  Spock is grateful, but doesn’t understand, and then they are swept into Khan’s nightmare and there isn’t time to dwell on the issue. 

The second lie happens with Jim on the other side of the window, as he tries again to tell his truth, and doesn’t correct Spock’s not-entirely-accurate assumptions.  In Jim’s defense, he’s dying, and there are things that a man can be forgiven for thinking are easier to take to the grave.  Spock still doesn’t understand, can’t see clearly enough through the raw emotions he doesn’t expect in order to put the pieces of Jim’s words and actions together. 

Instead, Spock nearly kills a man, and Dr. McCoy finds a miracle.  Spock doesn’t entirely understand but neither does he truly question where all the emotions come from.  He can’t deal with Jim’s death.  It hurts in a way he has never experienced, but Jim has been special to him for some time now.  Jim is his captain.  Jim is his _friend_.

Afterwards, when Jim wakes up again, Spock is there. 

“Do you require anything, Jim?” Spock asks him, three days later. 

“No,” says Jim, a strange fondness in his eyes, and that is the third lie. 

Ever since their conversation through the glass of the warp core decontamination chamber, Jim is surprisingly open with Spock.  There are certainly still things Jim tells no one, and likely a few things he has only told Leonard, but Spock is aware he knows far more about his captain than anyone would expect.  This is not a complaint.  Spock believes this communication allows them to be a far more efficient team, and also gives Spock the ability to better monitor Jim’s emotional state. 

Spock finds Jim’s earnest honesty fascinating.  It’s not that Jim never lies—on the contrary, he lies quite often, especially to those attempting to do the Enterprise harm.  He’s also worryingly good at bending the truth in his communication with Starfleet command, which Spock long ago resigned himself to, and now simply reads Jim’s reports first before submitting his own.  Vulcans do not lie, but they can certainly omit useful information, and anyway, Spock is working on owning his half-human side. 

Still, Jim’s easy relationship with half-truths and prevarication belie how completely honest he is to Spock, and to a slightly lesser degree, the rest of the crew.  Jim adores his crew, but there are certain things he keeps to himself.  Generally these things are in relation to an encounter gone wrong, and Jim does so to prevent the situation from degrading further, but there are also personal anxieties he keeps close to his chest.  Even these, however, are generally shared with Spock, as Jim trusts him to take over when Jim feels he is unfit for command.

The fourth lie is Yorktown.  Spock knows about Jim’s first meeting with the admiral, as well as the mission they are given, but he doesn’t find out about the rest until after the Enterprise is destroyed and they’re stranded on an unknown planet with a madman.  “What would I do without you, Spock?” Kirk asks when they finally meet again, but Spock, delirious and in wrenching pain, doesn’t recognize the statement for what it is. 

Ultimately, Jim never does say anything about the vice-admiral position he didn’t take, just resumes his captaincy aboard the new Enterprise.  It’s only fair, Spock decides, despite knowing by the time they leave Yorktown that Jim almost stayed there permanently.  After all, Spock never tells Jim about his aborted attempt to retire to New Vulcan.  In the end, Spock couldn’t bear to leave the crew, the Enterprise, Nyota, Jim.  He knows ultimately that Ambassador Spock would have agreed, and suspects Jim’s reasoning is the same. 

Jim is his dearest friend.  Spock doesn’t question the intensity of their friendship.  He has Nyota, as well as far too many doubts about his place with New Vulcan, to already occupy his mind.  Instead, he is simply content that they have both chosen to remain.  There is a sense of rightness to the Enterprise with the two of them standing on the bridge shoulder to shoulder. 

But there are times, after Krall, when Spock catches Jim in strange contemplative moods.  “Is all well, Captain?” he asks, some of those times. 

“Yeah,” Jim always replies, “Yeah, Spock, I’m fine.” 

It is a series of lies. 

At the end of the Five Year Mission, they return to headquarters.  Spock submits the paperwork for a marriage, because Nyota wants him to, and he sees no reason to deny her the request.  The vague feeling of unease returns, but he pushes it aside as entirely illogical.  He truly does love Nyota, and she deserves to have their bond affirmed after the trials of their inconsistent relationship.  He does not form a Vulcan bond with her, but Spock is now more at ease with both sides of his heritage and accepts it as another of his half-Vulcan eccentricities.  He does not think to look further than that. 

The paperwork goes through their captain initially, and Spock delivers it personally during the last of his regular briefings on the mission.  Jim’s expression is strangely tense, but he simply says, “Finally making an honest woman of her, huh?”  His tone indicates he is joking. 

“Based on my observations of your previous use of this vernacular,” Spock replies, almost smiling, “That would be accurate, Jim.” 

“Well, far be it from me to deny you two.  Congratulations, Spock, I’m happy for you.”  He asks Spock to send Nyota in so he can congratulate her in person as well.  Afterwards, he performs the ceremony for them. 

It’s the next lie, but Jim would likely argue it’s really more of an omission.  Later, Spock will realize that all the lies Jim ever told him were actually omissions. 

The Enterprise goes on to more missions under the leadership of Jim Kirk.  Spock remains as First Officer, and they keep mostly the same bridge crew even if the rest of the crew fluctuates regularly.  Jim loves all of them as though they were his children, flirts with pretty women, and gets himself in trouble on a regular basis.  Spock and Leonard are fortunately there to get him out mostly unscathed. 

Spock goes back to meeting regularly with Jim, and they retain their closeness as before.  Jim is still stunningly honest with Spock, and yet Spock sometimes feels like there’s a distance between them.  It’s not that Jim is less of a friend, or that they interact less often, or even that Jim refuses to talk about anything.  It is, Spock decides, yet another of the illogical things that happens around Jim, and there are many of those. 

With time, things begin to change.  After a decade of flying together, several of the officers on the ship receive offers of promotions.  Some of them consider retirement.  At the end of one particularly exhausting mission, Jim goes to meet another admiral alone.  Spock is reminded of Yorktown, all those years ago, and wonders if maybe this time things will be different. 

Instead, history repeats itself, and Jim uses the same lie of omission he did the last time.  The most logical result, Spock concludes, is that the event will continue following in the line of the vice-admiral position at Yorktown, and Jim will change his mind when he remembers how much he loves being a captain.  This conclusion is based on years of watching and knowing Jim Kirk, based on how much Jim loves flying and the Enterprise, based on how right it is when Jim is on the bridge handling a difficult situation. 

But three days later, Jim meets up with him to announce that this time, he’s going to take the job.  “I almost did this years ago, you know,” Jim rambles, “back in Yorktown.  Before Krall.” 

Spock does know, but elects not to say so.  “May I ask what changed your mind at that time, Jim?” he asks instead. 

“The—thing with Krall, well.  I wasn’t ready to give up flying.”  Jim pauses, swallowing.  “Or the crew.” 

It’s a truth, but it’s also a little of a lie too. 

“But you are prepared now,” Spock replies, a question.  

“Yeah,” says Jim, not meeting his eyes. 

A silence falls, as Spock considers what he can say to this.  The illogical unease creeps back in and Spock has to expend considerable energy to push it aside.  “Then I will simply congratulate you on your new position,” he finally tells Jim. 

“Thanks, Spock.  I’m recommending you to replace me, by the way.  About time you got your own ship.”  Jim smiles, and Spock knows it’s genuine, but there’s something off about it. 

“I am honored, Captain,” Spock answers. 

“Not anymore, Spock,” Jim replies, shaking his head, “Not anymore.” 

They don’t say goodbye that day, electing instead to postpone it until the Enterprise leaves for its next mission.  Spock realizes that Jim’s new position has no specific contact with the Enterprise and he is unlikely to hear from Jim while in space.  The realization is disconcerting, to say the least.  Spock is used to having Jim within reach at all times. 

Jim, as promised, comes to the launch to say goodbye.  The words they exchange are fond and heartfelt, without any real awkwardness.  Spock has spent considerable time meditating to deal with the feeling of wrongness of having an Enterprise without a Captain Kirk.  He says as much, and Jim only insists the ship will be fine without him. 

“Will you be all right without me, Jim?” Spock replies, and it’s a joke in his way, or so he thinks. 

“Oh my god, Spock, it’s a desk job,” Jim says, rolling his eyes in mock-exasperation.  It’s easy to fall into their old dynamic from there, but that, Spock realizes long after Jim leaves, is in its implied affirmative the last and greatest lie. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2: Spock takes over the Enterprise.

The Enterprise undergoes only one mission under Commander Spock, and it ends in disaster.  The bridge crew is significantly different this time, with several of the original members being promoted to desk jobs or roles on other ships.  Mr. Scott and Nyota remain, but Spock finds himself nearly calling several other people the wrong names.  He also catches himself starting toward the science station several times before he gets used to the captain’s chair. 

He especially finds himself forgetting that Jim is no longer aboard.  When there is movement in Spock’s peripheral vision he often instinctively assumes it is Jim.  He turns to look to Jim for ideas when there are difficult discussions to be made.  He has sudden thoughts that it is time for his briefing or his chess game with Jim. 

He and Nyota argue more often.  She worries, and Spock tells her he is only being illogical, and that he is simply unused to being captain instead of Jim. Their strained relationship affects the bridge crew, and while they survive their encounter with Klingons, the incident is not well-managed and the Enterprise limps back to Starfleet headquarters for repairs, its mission uncompleted. 

No one blames Spock for the Klingons, but Spock is irritated with himself.  The situation could have been avoided, he keeps thinking.  The bridge crew could have communicated better, trusted each other more.  Nyota tries to remind him it isn’t his fault.  She says that he of all people should understand that sometimes bad things just happen.

He is no longer comfortable with no-win scenarios. 

History repeats itself again.  When they land in the docking area, Nyota once again offers him his mother’s necklace back.  He tells her to keep it, like last time.  “I know you love me,” she tells him, strong despite her sadness.  It’s a quality he has always admired in her.  “And I still love you.” 

“Then, why—?”  Spock is once more not quite able to contain his hurt. 

“I hoped that would be enough,” she tells him firmly, “but after all this time, it’s undeniable that we both want things we can’t give each other.  And I deserve better than that.  We _both_ deserve better than that.” 

“You are still very dear to me, Nyota,” Spock replies honestly.  He learned this kind of courage from her, and she deserves this much, at least. 

Her smile is a little painful, but mostly fond.  “I know,” she says, “and when we both move on, I want us to remain the dearest of friends.”

She kisses him the same way she did in Yorktown years ago, and walks away into the crowd. 

Spock honestly grieves the end of his marriage.  He does love Nyota deeply, but she is correct, as she tends to be, that their relationship has not been emotionally satisfying for either of them in the months they’ve been on this last mission.  Starfleet offers him the option to transfer or remain captain, and he asks for some time to consider, which he uses to meditate and reflect on the disastrous end of the mission, on the things that went wrong with Nyota, and on his own path forward. 

Two months in, he steels his resolve and writes Nyota a long message, including his apologies, his gratitude, and his continued affection.  He does not ask for a reconciliation—Vulcans do not self-delude, and he admits a reconciliation would be beneficial for neither of them.  Instead, he simply endeavors to be honest about his feelings, something she has always requested, and something she helped him become more comfortable doing. 

It takes a few days, but Nyota messages him back eventually.  She thanks him for his honest words, tells him she’ll always be there for him, and asks how he’s doing.  Spock bemusedly tells her he has been meditating.  Nyota’s second reply simply suggests he should talk to Jim. 

The idea is strangely unexpected.  Spock has had no contact with Jim since they said goodbye in the docking bay.  Jim’s place in his affections has not changed, but—there is a strange gap in his life that Spock suddenly realizes is there.  He thinks approaching Jim now may result in awkwardness, but Nyota is rarely wrong in her advice. 

Jim has changed in the nearly a year they haven’t seen each other.  He has a beard, for one, trimmed neatly to pass regulations but still jarring to Spock, who is used to seeing Jim clean-shaven.  There’s also a certain uncharacteristic resignation to Jim’s eyes and in how he carries himself, as he lets Spock into his Starfleet office.  “Spock,” he says with affection, but his voice is tired underneath the surprise.  “I heard you were back, but uh…it seemed like a bad time so I figured I’d let you work things out.”  

“Jim,” Spock greets, and he finds he almost instinctively wants to reach out, but restrains himself.  Jim pauses, studying him. 

“You okay?” 

“My current state of being is adequate for my needs.” 

Jim looks fond, but also exasperated.  The atmosphere between them is comfortingly familiar. 

“Why are you here, Spock?”

“Nyota insisted I should speak with you, in supplement to my meditation.” 

“Uhura sent you?”  Jim’s expression is a little apprehensive.  “What does she think I did?” 

For the first time in months, Spock feels the irresistible curl at the edge of his mouth.  “I am certain you have done something worth her concern, but I do not believe that is why she suggested this course of action.” 

“Is this about…”  The hesitation is uncharacteristic of Jim, and Spock doesn’t like it.  “I thought I heard something about her leaving the Enterprise.” 

Nyota has already informed Spock that it is an option, and he has made his peace.

“It would be a logical consideration for her.” 

“You’re _okay_ with that?” 

Spock blinks, realizing suddenly that Jim must not be aware.  He had incorrectly assumed the divorce documents he had submitted would have generated enough talk among the admiral levels that even Jim would know by now.  “Jim.  Lieutenant Uhura and I have ended our marriage.” 

Jim’s eyebrows shoot up and he immediately steps closer, concerned.  “I—are you okay?” 

“As I have stated, Captain, my current state of being—”

“ _Spock_.”

“It is true that I have mourned the loss of my bond with Nyota.”  Spock tries for honesty and concision both.  “But I have also meditated on the situation and agree that this is the optimal course of action for both of us.” 

“All right,” Jim finally says, after a long pause.  “So you’re okay with it, and Uhura told you to talk to me…why?” 

“I do not know,” Spock answers.  “But it is imprudent to ignore her advice.” 

Jim snorts.  “I guess that’s true.”  He returns to fidgeting awkwardly.  Spock thinks to himself that Jim is out of place in this office, filled as it is with emptiness and stillness and dimness.  “So…did you want to talk about the mission or something?”

“It will not change the outcome.” 

“Yeah, but I assume you wanted to talk about _something_ when you came here.” 

“I did not understand the Enterprise without you.”  It tumbles from Spock’s lips unbidden, a sentiment he has never quite put to words that way.  Still, it is the truth, and Spock wants Jim to understand. 

“You didn’t—”  Jim makes an irritated sighing noise.  “Spock, you know that ship better than I do.”  

“The experience is not the same without you,” Spock insists, capable of being just as stubborn. 

“If you’re trying to get me to go back, I’m not going to just—look, Spock, I did my time.  I flew, and I did my missions, and now I’m _done_.  And I trust you with the Enterprise, but if you really don’t want to captain her anymore, I’m sure Sulu would take her.” 

“It was not my intention to recruit you, Captain—”

“Then stop calling me that, Spock!” 

There is a pause as Spock finds the right words, but he maintains his Vulcan calm.  “My apologies, Jim.  It is force of habit.” 

“What do you _want_ , Spock?” Jim asks for effectively the second time, now sounding exhausted. 

The problem, Spock suddenly realizes, is that he doesn’t know exactly what he wants. 

He wants a lot of things.  He wants Nyota to be well.  He wants Jim to be well.  So far neither of those things has happened.  He wants to do his parents justice but also to serve Starfleet by completing meaningful missions. 

He wants…he wants to live like Ambassador Spock. 

He wants more than anything to achieve that sense of completeness, that sense of being true to himself.  He’s wanted that for years, but he’s not sure anymore that he’s made the right choices.

He looks at Jim and decides there’s no better time to start down that path. 

“I want you to be my captain, Jim.”  Jim stares at him, panic flitting in his eyes, so Spock forges ahead.  “But I will not ask it of you if you do not wish to return.” 

“Fuck.”  The distance Spock began to sense years ago is still there, and Jim withdraws into it.  “Fuck, Spock, I can’t.” 

“May I make a personal query?”

“Fuck, Spock, _what_?”

“Why did you choose to leave the Enterprise a year ago?” 

Jim sighs again, rolling his eyes.  Underneath the exasperation, Spock can see the painful resignation seeping in.  “I was tired, Spock.” 

“I did not anticipate you would ever tire of flying, Jim.”

“That’s…not what I was tired of.”

Spock tilts his head, trying to make sense of the statement.  “Then what exactly was it—”

“Spock, we really don’t need to keep talking about—”

“Captain, based on my observations you seem—”

“I’m not your damn captain anymore—”

“I respectfully believe that I should know—”

“It was you, all right?”  Jim finally shouts, the truth at the end of it all.  “It was because of you.”  And at this point, Jim figures he may as well clarify his statement so that Spock doesn’t just assume Jim hated him.  In for a penny, or something.  “I was tired of wanting something I’d never have.”

Spock hasn’t experienced this level of confusion for years.  It’s an experience that’s purely Jim Kirk, but Spock has been convinced for ages that he is too used to Jim to be surprised anymore. 

“I—”  Spock finds he is not unhappy to hear it.  It seems somehow completely natural that Jim should want him, because Spock has spent years and years cataloguing Jim’s habits and accounting for his behaviors, because Spock has captained the Enterprise for nearly a year and all he accomplished was an endless search for Jim on a ship that had lost him. 

It comes back to him then, the Bradbury, and then the warp core, and Yorktown, and that last day at the docking bay, and all the rest.  He remembers each lie, every time Jim has lied to him, but now he has the missing piece that was omitted and with that context everything slides into its logical place. 

“Why did you lie?” is what finally comes out of Spock’s mouth. 

“Why did I—Spock, of _course_ I lied.  You were with Uhura.  I wasn’t going to try to break you up.  Where I come from that’s called being a huge douche.”

“I fail to see what feminine hygiene prod—”

“ _Spock_.”  Jim’s warning glare is much the same as it’s always been, and despite the general situation Spock is warmed by the familiarity of that look.

“Jim.”  He steps forward.  “I still believe I deserved to know.” 

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate it,” Jim answers, swallowing thickly.  “This seemed—easier.”  It’s strange, but even now Spock finds Jim more open, more vulnerable with him than at any other time.  The thought is endearing, but it also pains Spock to think of all the years Jim spent lying, because he thought Spock would want him to. 

It has been over a decade since that day on Nero’s ship when he learned to trust Jim, and since then he has always wanted Jim to be at his best.  Spock dislikes the thought that he somehow missed such an important thing. 

He loves Nyota and likely always will, but Spock also realizes now that this past year hasn’t been about being unused to being a captain.  It’s been about being unused to being _without Jim_.  It’s been about missing Jim’s comforting presence at his side, about being unable to move on from the things Jim engrained in him, about functioning at lower capacity without his greatest friend and partner.  It’s been about his latent need for Jim to be within reach, within sight. 

If he’s planning to live his life like the Ambassador, he clearly needs to be better at understanding himself.  Spock has only felt truly emotionally compromised twice in his Starfleet career—once after the death of his mother and the destruction of Vulcan, and the other when he watched Jim’s hand fall still on the other side of the containment chamber window.  He should have perhaps understood it better that day at the warp core, but the possibility hadn’t even occurred to him as an option. 

Now, though, with Jim’s emotions laid out before him, Spock thinks he understands finally. 

“As illogical as it may be, the Enterprise made little sense to me without you.”  He remembers what Nyota taught him about communicating and looks Jim in the eyes.  “I presume you have heard about the Klingon attack?” 

“I—yeah.”  Jim sits back in his chair, looking shocked and uncertain. 

“The situation was not resolved satisfactorily, but I remain certain that it could have been.  My first officer and I are a team, certainly, but not in the way you and I are a team.”  Spock’s words are sure and deliberate.  He knows what he wants now.  “I am at my most capable with you, as I believe you are with me.  Jim—”

“What are you saying, Spock?”  The tortured hope in Jim’s voice is too much for Spock, and he does reach out this time.  Jim looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his own hands. 

“I am saying I do not wish to return to the Enterprise without you.  I am saying I would like to follow you.  I am saying I understand why you came back for me on Nibiru.” 

The silence that falls then is deafening.  Jim’s mouth is set in a tight line and his arms twitch repeatedly as though he is restraining them with great strength of will.  He shuts his eyes for a long moment, then opens them again, glance jumping to and from Spock’s face. 

“ _Spock_ ,” Jim finally manages to say, his voice barely a whisper and open with emotion.  He finally allows himself to reach toward Spock as well, but stops himself before they touch. 

For years, even during the Yorktown incident, Jim was freely tactile with Spock, and Spock, despite Vulcan norms to the contrary, simply accepted it as natural.  Around the time of Spock’s marriage with Nyota, Jim began to touch him less and less, eventually forgoing altogether.  Spock had not thought he would notice, much less that he would want it back, but the sight of Jim struggling to avoid him is somehow wrong.

Spock is entirely out of his depth, which he thinks he really ought to be used to by now.  Jim engrained in him years ago that the best solution in such a case is to go with one’s gut, and once Spock unhooks his logic his body is already moving to bridge the gap keeping him from his captain. 

He takes Jim’s hands gently, the gesture entirely human.  Jim tenses momentarily before finally tentatively squeezing back. 

It is the first truth of its kind. 


End file.
